Morning came like a knife through flesh—sharp and sudden.
The sun, a molten eye behind pale clouds, cast a sickly light over Esgard. Banners fluttered across rooftops, council guards stood tall at each major avenue, and the noble houses were already sending out their adorned carriages.
It was a day of ceremony, but also of hidden fangs. The city didn't move with celebration, it moved like a snake molting skin.
Within House Elarin's estate, Elise stood at the tall arched window, eyes fixed on the city below.
She watched as the first waves of nobles began to converge near the Spiral Chamber—the ancient hall where votes were cast, and power changed hands behind gloves.
"Fifteen carriages have passed the fourth ward," she murmured. "All noble colors. No deviations in route. No signs of interference."
Behind her, Velrosa sat calmly as Elise affixed the final clasp on her cloak. Deep midnight blue trimmed with Elarin silver. Regal, but subdued.
